


All I Want for Christmas is You

by nightnerd



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christmas fluff with implications and discussions regarding future smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightnerd/pseuds/nightnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sorry, but you’ve never what?”</p><p>Jemma shifted under Fitz’s shocked gaze, trying to ignore how his mouth was slightly agape at her declaration. “I’ve never really celebrated Christmas,” she repeated. “My mum and dad thought it was impractical for a little girl to believe in Santa Claus, and the lack of celebration sort of just continued. I’d exchange gifts with my friends, more of a formality than anything else, but… I’ve never really had a Christmas.”</p><p>When Fitz realizes that Jemma Simmons has never had a real Christmas celebration, he takes it upon himself to show her what the holiday season is really all about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want for Christmas is You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dot11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dot11/gifts).



> This work was written for the lovely doteleven who I have had the privilege of getting to know over the past few weeks through this Fitzsimmons Secret Santa gift exchange! The prompt was: Fitz convinces the team to put on a "normal" Christmas for Jemma, and the whole thing kind of fails hilariously/endearingly. (Inspired from the song "Christmas Pics" by the Barenaked Ladies). I took a slightly different direction on it - focusing more on the Fitzsimmons element than the rest of the team, but I hope you enjoy regardless!

“Sorry, but you’ve never _what?_ ”

Jemma shifted under Fitz’s shocked gaze, trying to ignore how his mouth was slightly agape at her declaration. “I’ve never really celebrated Christmas,” she repeated. “My mum and dad thought it was impractical for a little girl to believe in Santa Claus, and the lack of celebration sort of just continued. I’d exchange gifts with my friends, more of a formality than anything else, but… I’ve never really had a Christmas.” The Simmons family was highly logical and very pragmatic; they didn’t see the purpose of spending copious amounts of money on a holiday that served no practical purpose. Then again, they didn’t perceive any holidays with much value – birthdays aside – so Jemma was rather accustomed to occasionally missing out on a few holiday traditions.

“So you’re saying that all of those years we spent apart during the Academy and Sci-Ops, you’ve never-?”

“No.”

Fitz remained rather taken aback, utterly perplexed by what Jemma was telling him. “How did I not know this?” It seemed to him as though a best friend of over a decade should know when the other doesn’t celebrate one of the largest holidays in existence.

After a few moments, Jemma responded with a little shrug. “It never really came up, and, honestly, I didn’t really see the purpose of talking about it. Everyone always seemed to pity me for missing out on-“

“But you are missing out.”

Her eyebrows drew into a careful crease on the bridge of her nose. “Pardon?”

A moment passed as he nodded surely to himself, mentally reaffirming his plan. “I’ll show you everything that you’ve been missing out on.”

*     *     *     *     *

After that, it became Fitz’s personal holiday mission to ensure that Jemma experienced the most festive holiday possible. Every day was brimming with new Christmas activities, and sometimes it almost seemed as though the official missions fell to the wayside in comparison to Fitz’s personal task of showing Jemma the wonders of Christmas. He then extended the mission to other members of the team, wanting them to assist him in showing Jemma Simmons what a normal Christmas looked like.

First came the Christmas tree, and, though Fitz initially arranged for the delivery and had planned to set it up with Jemma, the two scientists had been whisked away by Coulson for some onsite analysis of a new technology and the biochemical compound that powered it. When they finally returned, earlier than expected due to Fitz’s blunt impatience regarding the situation and success in what they set out to do, chaos had erupted on the Bus… or at least that is how it appeared to be to Jemma. The fiery hacker and the steeled Calvary were in a deadly face off in the common living area, Skye energetically explaining to May while May curtly countered her points with the minimum words possible. Fitzsimmons and Coulson observed the exchange.

“But May, if you think about it, the team would really get the most out of the tree if we kept it in the center this room-“

“If we put it in the center, it would obstruct the view of the television.”

“Nobody really uses the TV anyway-“

“What about Christmas movies?”

There was a pause as Skye had to concede that she was right about that, and the moment extended as she struggled to provide another reason as to why they should put the Christmas tree in the center of the room opposed to wherever May proposed as its location. After a little while, her expression became one of reluctant defeat. “ _Fine._ ”

A slight smile appeared on May’s lips as she nodded once, picking up the rather small grand fir tree, limbs bound with strings, and placing it in the space between the bar and the couch. It obstructed the pathway somewhat, but when you were in close quarters like the Bus, there was essentially no way to avoid that.

When Coulson, May, and Skye dispersed, Jemma studied the bound tree carefully, as though she could potentially utilize its presence for some of her biological experiences with a foundation in botany. “Do people usually fight over where to put the tree?” she asked after a while.

Fitz shrugged. “Sometimes. My mum and I have just one place we usually put it… I think most families just kind of have one spot, actually.”

“That sounds very nice.” Jemma met his steady gaze, nothing but sincerity in her eyes. There was something about the way that Fitz spoke of the holiday, his voice always brimming with reverence and awe, that made Jemma question just how much she really had missed during every other December.

*     *     *     *     *

Next came the cookie baking contest. Fitz had initially proposed that they simply baked cookies together, but Jemma suggested that they made it into a competition – something to sate her desire for rivalry. Realistically, it wasn’t as though such a game would jeopardize their friendship, especially considering that they had initially met while struggling against one another for the top grade. If anything, competitions against one another now were simply a good laugh and bragging rights for the next few days.

There were three different types of cookies in their lineup: sugar, snickerdoodle, and gingerbread. Jemma had spent hours scouring the internet for the most complex and detailed recipes decorated with stellar reviews, and she printed off two copies of the best ranked of the three cookies. She smugly handed his set to him, hopeful that the elaborate directions would trip him up at some point, and then took to baking.

The necessary ingredients had been gathered a few days prior, so it was simply a matter of finding everything in the kitchen and getting together the required kitchenware. Once everything was all set out, they began. A flurry of flour hung in the air as different types of dough conquered brightly colored bowls before being tipped out onto the counter. Jemma, meticulous in how she followed directions due to her background in chemistry, carefully measured out every component. In her mind, the fact that she did not deviate from the best recipes available should guarantee her success. Fitz, however, had a much different approach. He had spent his entire life baking a variety of cookies – including sugar cookies, snickerdoodles, and gingerbread men – with his mother during the holiday seasons, meaning the basics of the recipes were essentially engrained in his memories. He would glance at the unnecessarily complicated recipes Jemma printed out for guidance occasionally, but the majority of his baking was just adding a dash of this and a dollop of that as he remembered doing before.

A few hours later, and the homey scent of freshly baked cookies saturated the entire Bus. To make things more formal, Fitz and Simmons had both plated their cookies as you would on a professional cooking show. Jemma’s fluffy sugar cookie was decorated with sugar crystals, her snickerdoodle was punctuated with a cinnamon stick for emphasis, and the gingerbread woman was carefully decorated with elegant frosting. Fitz’s sugar cookie had a white ‘X’ over an otherwise light blue background, a representative of the Scotland flag. The fact that he had chosen that specific design for his sugar cookie merely caused Jemma to roll her eyes and mutter something about England’s superiority, but his smug little grin made it abundantly clear that he believed he would claim this small victory for Scotland. Additionally, his snickerdoodle featured a Christmas tree shape formed out of a cinnamon dusting, and his gingerbread man was decorated like Spock from Star Trek.

Skye, Coulson, and May were anointed the judges. Skye and Coulson agreed rather enthusiastically, for what reason could there possibly be to deny the opportunity to eat six different kinds of delicious cookies, and, after a minute or so of pleading from Fitzsimmons, May agreed as well with one of her trademark approving smiles.  The sat at the galley where Fitzsimmons delivered their plated cookies and anxiously awaited the verdict.

To Jemma’s complete and utter shock, Fitz ended up winning the competition. She had to taste each set of cookies herself before begrudgingly admitting, “Alright, you definitely won that one… but I still think my snickerdoodle was better.”

He laughed. “Alright, Jemma, I’ll agree with you there.”

Jemma took another bite of each of their gingerbread, savoring the taste as she attempted to determine the precise differences between the two. Her brow wrinkled in confusion, for they should have tasted fairly similar given that they used identical recipes, and yet his was clearly better than hers. “How did you do it?” she finally asked, giving up on using her tasting senses to identify the alterations.

“My mum and I bake cookies every year for our neighbors. It’s nothing much, but I’ve learned a few things along the way, like adding an extra dash of cinnamon to the gingerbread dough. It doesn’t technically call for it in the recipe, but…” He punctuated the statement with a small little shrug.

“It’s brilliant,” Jemma responded softly, an affectionate smile upon her lips. “Congratulations, Fitz.” She leaned closer, pausing for just a moment before placing a delicate kiss on his cheek, before retreating from the galley.

Fitz gently rubbed where she had kissed before a shy grin tackled his features, and a light blush crept up his neck.

*     *     *     *     *

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and Fitzsimmons had just realized that they didn’t really have any presents for the other members of the team. They had ordered gifts for one another weeks ago out of sheer habit – they had been buying for the other for the past decade now – but they weren’t really accustomed to sharing the holiday with anyone else beyond family and the occasional coworker. Because they didn’t need to shop for one another, they decided to leave the Bus for a while – hopefully Coulson could survive a few hours without his prized scientists but, even if he couldn’t, they had their mobile phones on them – and sift through a local mall.

Once they arrived, Jemma gaped at how crowded it was, and they jostled against the bustling crowd during their treks from one store to the next. They eventually found a few gifts for each member of the team – including a Captain America action figure for Coulson and a memory foam yoga mat for May. Skye, however, was a little more difficult, and eventually Fitz held the perfect present in his hand. “This. This is the one.”

It was a sock monkey onesie.

Jemma nodded her agreement, and they brought it to the cashier to pay. Once it was bagged like the others, they began wandering back to the car, passing a mall Santa with a screaming child on his lap. Jemma carefully studied the scene as they sauntered past, and, with much hesitation in her actions, she stepped slightly closer to Fitz before taking his hand in hers. He looked over at her, desperately trying to logically explain what was happening, before taking a different tactic and trying not to think anything of it. The Christmas season seemed to bring people closer together with an affectionate brand of intimacy, and, given that she had never really experienced it before, she likely just didn’t have any way to process and respond to it.

Yeah. Sure. That must have been it. What other explanation could there possibly be?

*     *     *     *     *

Though he didn’t say anything about it, Jemma understood that Christmas Eve was fairly rough for him simply because it was the first one that he had ever spent away from his mum. There was a different tone to his enthusiasm, and Jemma decided that she would take the lead for a little while, allowing him a break for the evening. To his vast surprise, this included both wine and spiked eggnog.

“What is this?” Fitz asked, glancing over the brandy, wine, and carton of eggnog resting on the small side table of her bunk.

Her gaze followed his before she shyly met his eyes. “I thought we could use a lighter evening, and I don’t think that Coulson would call on us tonight or tomorrow morning unless something near fatal came up. Besides… we deserve to ease up some, especially after the year it has been for us.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that logic.”

They turned on several of the Doctor Who Christmas specials and made up a little drinking game – take a few sips of the preferred alcoholic drink every time a catchphrase was said, whether it was the Nine Doctor’s _fantastic_ or the Tenth Doctor’s _allons-y_ or the Dalek’s _exterminate_. Regardless of how they became increasingly more intoxicated, they remained careful not to spill on Jemma’s comforter where they were currently sitting because there was no other space in the crowded room.

            Jemma Simmons became a rather touchy-feely person while drunk, and Fitz began to notice that she was shifting closer to him with every passing episode. After the third or so – he had lost count – Jemma was leaning against him, looking up with wide brown eyes as she balanced a glass of wine in her hand. It was in that moment that he decided to glance up in an attempt to avoid her gaze, and his mouth fell slightly agape at the sight.

            _Mistletoe._

“Um, Jemma?”

            “Yeah, Leo?”

Her voice was breezier than usual, and it caused his own breath to hitch in his chest as he desperately searched for coherent words. “Did you… is that mistletoe?”

She nodded unevenly, balance thrown off due to the alcohol. “Yeah. Skye put it up. Isn’t it pretty?”

He stared at her for a while before glancing back up at the cluster of pale berries and leaves. He slowly came to the conclusion that, though it would likely make the situation immensely awkward and potentially ruin their Christmas Eve, Skye had taken advantage of Jemma’s naivety of holiday traditions to encourage her little shipping of them. He certainly didn’t want that to happen again under different circumstances – or when she was standing under it with a different person. “Jemma, mistletoe… it means, ah, that you’re supposed to… if two people are under it, then they’re supposed to-“ He struggled to explain it in a way that made it sound as though she was under no type of obligation to kiss him despite the connotation of the plant.

“I know what mistletoe means, Fitz.”

His nervousness shifted to complete confusion, especially because she understood where they were sitting, and she knew what the plant meant, meaning she realized what sitting together underneath it could possibly lead to… “We don’t have to. Nobody else is awake, and-“

With that, Jemma swiftly leaned in to steal a quick kiss from him; before he could really process what was happening, she pulled back to nervously ask, “Was that alright?”

“Yeah, Jem. That was… that was definitely alright. It was more than alright, really. It was-“ She interrupted him with another kiss, but she approached this one very differently. It started out slow and tender as her fingertips lightly trailed along his jaw and his hands very tentatively settled on her waist, but the pace rapidly sped up as the passion that had been accumulating for over a decade sparked. The kiss became more desperate as their pauses for air became shorter with every passing second; her hands fisted into his curls, and his hands reached to her back, pulling her body flush against hers. Eventually, Jemma pulled away, holding his gaze for a moment before she slid into his lap so she was now straddling him. She then pushed off his jumper and was hastily trying to undo the button on his shirt when his brain finally caught up to everything that was happening. “Whoa, whoa, Jemma, what are you doing?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, pausing to reorient herself, before quickly explaining, “I’ve realized that this holiday is about spending time with the ones you love, celebrating traditions with them and appreciating them with gifts.” There was a pause as she readjusted in his lap, brushing her hair back as she carefully studied him and every minuscule shift in his expression. “I’ve also come to understand that I don’t just want to share it with you as your friend. I would like to be more, and I would like to start that right now… if you want that as well, of course. I would more than understand if you weren’t attracted to me or if you already have someone else in mind…” With the thought that he might not be attracted to her in that way, she slowly slid away from her position on his lap, settling into the spot beside him instead. However, the intensity of her gaze remained.

His mind was reeling, and there was only one plausible explanation he could think of. “You’re intoxicated, Jemma. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking just as clearly now as I have been for the past few weeks,” she responded quickly. There was a pause in which some of the hope faded from her eyes, and her shoulders visibly drooped slightly as she carefully considered the situation. “It’s alright, Leo. I get it. You’re not interested, and that’s perfectly alright. We’ll just go back to being friends-“

“I never said I’m not interested,” he swiftly countered. “I am interested. I am _very_ interested. I just don’t want you to do something that you might regret tomorrow when you are sober and clearminded.”

“But I already told you that I’m still clearheaded. I know what I want, and I know what I’m doing.”

He knew that she wouldn’t rationally agree with that, even if it was true. As far as he was concerned, she was drunk, meaning she was incapable of giving true consent at the moment, and he had to find another way to convince her to hold off for a while if she genuinely desired him. After a few long moments, he added, “We would be breaking section seventeen.”

“I don’t care.”

That was not at all the reply he had been expecting, and he stared at Miss ‘I can’t be a part of your bad girl shenanigans’ Jemma Simmons in blank shock at her sudden change in demeanor. There was no way that she was thinking rationally if she was so prepared to throw one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s rules out for what would be, as far as he knew, a one-night stand. After taking a deep breath, he tried again. “How about this… if you still want this tomorrow when the alcohol is no longer affecting your thought progression… then we can, alright?” He sincerely hoped that she would agree to this statement, especially because he was too intoxicated to properly deal with these circumstances and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to resist saying no to her as she gradually moved closer to him.

Fortunately for him, she nodded before quietly asking, “Will you still sleep with me tonight?” It took a few moments for her to realize the duel connotation of the wording, and she shook her head ever so slightly to negate the one that she had been referring to before. “Not… not in that way. Just… beside me.”

He had already said no to her too many times that evening to deny her this considerably more innocent request. “Sure, Jem.” With that, she cleaned up the drinks, unsteadily arranging the bottles and their used cups into a jagged line on her side table, before turning out the lights. She blindly made her way over to her bed and, more importantly as far as she was concerned, him. There was a thud as she stumbled into something, likely the corner of the bed, and she cursed under her breath. “Are you alright?” he immediately asked, sitting up quickly and prepared to help at a moment’s notice.

Jemma then managed to find the edge of the bed in the dark, crawling onto it and next to him with a little more caution than before she collided with the bedframe. “I’m fine,” she mumbled thickly. Together they shifted into a horizontal position, their bodies pressed together in a way that no platonic friends’ should be. They exchanged quick goodnights, and he waited until her breathing evened out until he even considered falling asleep.

*     *     *     *     *

“Fitz! Simmons! Fitzsimmons! Get out here for the Christmas picture!”

Fitz jolted away, dislodging a sleeping Jemma that had been sprawled across his chest. She sleepily rubbed her eyes before sitting up, and together they stumbled sleepily out of the door of her bunk. “7:00am, Skye? What the bloody hell?” Fitz demanded.

“Coulson and May have a lead they have to go check out in ten minutes, so we’re getting a Christmas picture before they go.”

Fitz was about to protest, insist that they could take the photograph afterwards, but then he caught a glance of Jemma’s soft smile at the idea. “Fine, but I’m going back to sleep when it’s all over.”

“Sure, I don’t care.”

“I’m still in my pajamas,” Jemma quickly realized, glancing down at her attire as she immediately began contemplating changing to look more professional for her first Christmas photograph.

“So are the rest of us.”

Before either of them could object further, Coulson and May arrived in their pajama sets. Their clear haste made the three younger agents realize that time was rather limited, so they had to get this over with rather quickly so the two could be off on their Christmas Day mission. Skye immediately began setting up the camera before directing everyone into position. She would be on the end due to the fact that she had to set the timer, then May, Coulson, and Fitzsimmons; Coulson was centered due to his position as director of S.H.I.E.L.D., of course. She started the timer and leapt into the frame, absentmindedly saying, “hold still... wait for it, hold still, wait for the click…” as she settled in with a grin.

 _Click._  


Skye immediately bounced over to the camera with the intention of reviewing the picture. “Look! May actually smiled!”

The two older agents said quick goodbyes as they briskly exited the room, and Fitz figured it was a good time to leave as well. “I’m going back to bed now.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything different,” Skye responded absentmindedly as she studied the photograph.

Jemma tangled her fingers with his as they headed back towards their bunks, and, instead of letting go when they reached his bunk, she tugged him over to hers. “Good morning, Leo,” she murmured quietly once they were inside and the door was closed behind them.

“Morning, Jem.”

There was a pause as she took a deep breath, as though she was gathering up some kind of audacity. “So I’ve thought about everything that happened last night, and I’ve decided…” Jemma looked away for a moment, hoping that the pillow she was currently looking at would somehow lend her courage, before meeting his eyes once more, “All I want for Christmas is you.”

It took a moment for him to recall the previous night’s conversation and the more immediate meaning to her words. “Now you’re getting into the cheesy holiday song spirit,” he responded a little dumbly, awed by the fact that she was being so forward about the prospect of them becoming… _a more official version of them._ However, his reasoning from the previous night remained intact, and he gently reminded her, “What about section seventeen?”

“I can disregard it if you can.”

Her willingness to ignore the rules still shocked him a fair amount, but he didn’t want to question her motives any further at the moment when they could be doing many other preferred things. “I don’t think I’ll have any problems with that.”

Jemma stepped further into the room, leading him closer to the bed. “I want this, Fitz. I want to spend every holiday season with you, kissing your cheek as we bake cookies and holding your hand as we shop and snogging under the mistletoe. That’s… a lot to ask for right now, and I recognize that… but I would like to try it out because I hope that it could extend to the next Christmas.”

“Me too.” It was shorter than it probably could have been, but his mind was short-circuiting at her close proximity.

“Merry Christmas, Leo,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him once again.

“Merry Christmas, Jem.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and please feel free to add a comment about anything specifically that you liked or any constructive criticism on how I could improve my writing!
> 
> Happy Holidays!


End file.
